Getbackers Drabbles
by Aperu
Summary: A series of Getbackers drabbles. Mainly gen or yaoi, especially BanxGinji. See individual chapters for warnings and summaries.
1. Anticlimax

**1.**

**Title:** Anticlimax   
**Pairing:** Ban/Ginji   
**Word Count:** 100   
**Rating:** G   
**A/N:** The challenge sentence was, "Is that it?" 

Ban has been acting strange lately. Ginji doesn't understand it, much like he doesn't understand many of Ban's other idiosyncrasies. It isn't anything major – spilt glasses, sudden lapses in conversation – but Ginji is worried anyway, a state he frequents just a little too often to be healthy. 

Ban approaches him one day, clearing his throat and glancing around. Repeatedly. 

"Ginji," he says finally. 

"Yes, Ban-chan?" 

"I wanted to tell you…" 

"Mm?" 

"That is, I…" 

"What, Ban-chan?" 

"I love you!" It's more of an explosion than a confession, really. 

There is a long, pregnant pause before Ginji replies. 

"Is that it?" 

**END**


	2. Condolences

**2.**

**Title:** Condolences   
**Pairing:** Ban/Ginji, if you squint   
**Word Count:** 100   
**Rating:** G   
**A/N:** The challenge sentence was, "If it were up to me…" 

Ginji is a pretty boy filled with dark secrets. He never cries. Instead, he watches the streets. Heels stuck in gutters. Umbrellas forced open. Lightning. 

And always, always, the Tower. 

Ban just watches Ginji. The way his eyes unfocus. His pale cheeks. His dark mouth. His pain. 

Sometimes, Ban can't help but think, 'If it were up to me…' 

But it isn't. 

"It's raining, Ban-chan." 

A rumble of thunder eats up Ginji's words. Ban doesn't reply for a moment. Doesn't know what to say, how to comfort. Watches his glass of water tremble on the bar top. 

"I'm sorry, Ginji." 

**END**


	3. The Moment After

**3.**

**Title:** The Moment After   
**Pairing:** Ban/Ginji   
**Word Count:** 100   
**Warnings:** Fluff, WAFF, etc. etc.   
**Rating:** PG-13   
**A/N:** The challenge sentence was, "There was this one time I accidentally set my bed on fire…" 

Ban likes Ginji best like this. Eyes closed, hands curled against the sheets, drifting in the instance between sex and sleep. Every breath brings a ripple of electricity. Every breath makes every hair on his body rise. Silly boy. 

"Ban-chan." 

"Mm?" 

A tired giggle, muffled by his pillow. 

"…There was this one time I accidentally set my bed on fire." A pause. "I was thinking about you." 

Ban smiles, despite himself. 

"Ginji… Go to sleep." There's silence, for a little while. Then– 

"Ban-chan." 

"Mm?" 

"Love you." 

Ban says it aloud this time. "Silly boy." 

Ban likes Ginji best like this. 

**END**


	4. Anomaly

**4.**

**Title:** Anomaly   
**Pairing:** Ban/Ginji   
**Word Count:** 100   
**Rating:** PG   
**A/N:** The challenge sentence was, "Well. It wasn't exactly what I had in mind…" 

Ginji stares fixedly as long fingers pluck out a cigarette from a little crumpled box and flick open a flame. Ban has piano hands, ones that mould themselves to pencils and brushes. It is almost a waste, but Ginji supposes there is a certain kind of artistry involved in warfare. 

"What, Ginji?" 

A pause. "How do they taste?" 

Ban considers for a moment. And then his mouth is on Ginji's, and his piano hands, on Ginji's waist. Ginji tastes of peppermint. Ban tastes of smoke and danger and heat. 

"Well," Ginji whispers, "It wasn't exactly what I had in mind…" 

**END**


	5. Nostalgia

**5.**

**Title:** Nostalgia   
**Character:** Ginji   
**Word Count:** 100   
**Rating:** G   
**A/N:** The challenge theme was 'Renewal.' 

Ginji stared out, disbelieving, mottled hand curled against a polished pane. Passers-by ignored him – an old drunk, half-standing from his seat, eyes trained into the distance – eager to hurry past the noise. 

Behind them, the Tower crumbled. 

Construction workers swarmed around the base of the complex, ants surveying fallen prey. A renewal, they called it. They'd probably build an apartment block. More employment opportunities. Ridding the city of the slums. 

There were probably still people in there. 

Ginji thought of fonder days, of Paul and Shido and Ban. All gone. Was it really so long ago? 

He shut his eyes. 

**END**


	6. Impossibility

**6.**

**Title:** Impossibility   
**Pairing:** Ban/Ginji   
**Word Count:** 216   
**Rating:** PG   
**A/N:** The theme was 'red.' 

It's very dark. The trees trap the moon and kill the wind. So it's also very still, save the crickets and their creaky, discordant requiem. Ginji is balled up, an indistinct ghost in a monochrome forest. Wide-eyed and tremulous, he aches. It must be the chill that threatens to rip out his soul. 

"Na, Ban-chan," he whispers suddenly. The echo runs away, engulfed by night. The crickets laugh. Pained and inexplicably afraid, Ginji reaches out for reassurance with unsteady arms. A child. Pale. Blind. 

"I'm cold." He sounds as though he might be choking, too. 

Groping fingers meet a solid chest then, and Ginji fists into Ban's shirt, needily, desperately, pulling himself up and into Ban's lap. "I'm cold," he says again, almost cough-crying, and whimpers, perhaps from the lack of sympathy. 

They must be face to face now, he and Ban, but Ginji can't see anything. Not the way Ban must be smiling tiredly, not his dangerous-beautiful eyes, and definitely, absolutely, not the stickiness over Ban's front that isn't blood. Isn't. Isn't. Isn't. 

The blackness devours everything. Even, especially, the redness. 

"Say something, Ban-chan. Say something!" 

He presses forwards, mouth open. Anything to coax out the words. He misses. Feels shattered lenses scrape against his lips. And cries. 

Because, he really can't be alone, anymore. 

**END**


	7. Giving

**7.**

**Title:** Giving   
**Pairing:** Ban/Ginji   
**Word Count:** 268   
**A/N:** The theme was 'candy.' 

Valentine's Day. Ban didn't care much for the occasion, personally. Sure, the obligatory chocolates from Natsumi were nice enough, but he really couldn't see what all the fuss was about. It seemed to have a lot to do with queues and pink wrapping paper and a rush for last-minute confectionery. Blushing high school students and their embarrassed counterparts riddled the streets, sporting ridiculously huge bouquets and giant teddy bears. The florists must be happy. And rich. 

Ban thought the whole thing rather silly, actually, but it was the sort of affair that Ginji enjoyed – noisy and dreamy and 'a very big deal.' As evidenced by the way Ginji was currently busy moping in a dark corner of the Honky Tonk and making sad, doe eyes at his glass of water. Silly boy. 

Ban waited until Paul pulled out his newspaper before closing in for the kill. 

Ginji blinked. "Ban-chan… What –?" 

His mouth fell open when he caught sight of the small, heart-shaped lollipop, twirling in Ban's fingertips. The gasp that escaped made all the trouble worth it. Including the scuffle with that elementary kid. 

"It's not much, but…" Well, it was all he could afford without sacrificing the week's gas. Freelancing wasn't exactly what you'd call a profitable job. 

Ginji continued to gape, staring at the gift as if it might disappear any second. 

"Don't you want it?" Ban smirked, that wicked twitch of the lips that made Ginji want to– 

Moments later, Ban had a lapful of Ginji, the present largely forgotten as Ginji leaned forwards and pressed soft kisses to the corners of his mouth. 

**END**


	8. Tactics

**8.**

**Title:** Tactics   
**Pairing:** Ban/Ginji   
**Word Count:** 185   
**Summary:** Means to an end.   
**A/N:** The theme was 'radio-cassette player.' 

There's a little second-hand shop that Ginji loves, with a handsome cassette-player sitting in the grimy window, mantled in dust. 

It's much too expensive to be contemplating, but he does all the same, because it's just the sort of old-fashioned contraption that Ban would like (he bought the beetle after all), and would be absolutely perfect for Ban to play his Vivaldi on. 

So Ginji walks by everyday in hopes that the price will drop, and it will, because he's asked Paul, and _he_ said that all prices do, eventually, and Paul is never wrong about the important things. 

When it does, Ginji will be ready with his collection of loose change jangling in his pockets – it's the only type of money he has luck with – and that very night, he'll present it to Ban, maybe steal a quick peck on the cheek. If all goes well, Ban will pin him to his seat and pry his mouth open with his tongue. 

And in his palms, the black box will shrill and die in a flare of static crackle. 

But it won't matter at all. 

**END**


	9. Memories

**9.**

**Title:** Memories   
**Pairing:** Akabane/Kagami   
**Word Count:** 266   
**Summary:** On tweezers and company. 

That day, it rained like it would never rain again. Dull spray on dull buildings with thin, razor spires. Light trapped in droplet prisms swallowed by concrete grounds, wholly unforgiving. And God had nothing to do with it. 

For this was a different Babylon, but no less despised. Storms could only mean that the Emperor was angry. 

Akabane never did have patience for weather or religion. 

"_Sensei_. Would you mind concentrating on the task at hand? I'm rather attached to my limbs." 

A moment to recall himself, dragging stray thoughts inside and back to the bloodied digits in his hand. "Of course, Kagami-kun." Kagami-kun who, at this particular moment, glared, half-mocking, half-annoyed, and seeming terribly rubbed-the-wrong-way. 

Splintered fingers twitched, as if also in protest, and Akabane, looking down at rednesses leaking from pinkish wounds, was never the type of man to resist temptation. He squeezed. 

His pet and sometimes-patient hissed then, pretty blonde head jerking back, and eyes widening with pain and incomprehension and _something_, something that Akabane wanted to pin and dissect and devour. "My apologies," he murmured mildly, forceps already darting in to fish out splintered glass. "You should take more care. Mirrors are for looking in, Kagami-kun." 

"A-Ah. Efficient as always, I see." Soft, tight-lipped Kyouji would make a fearsome rival someday. "It's not an easy thing to leave this place, Sensei, but in my honest opinion, you're wasting any talent you might possess." 

Akabane merely smiled, peaceably, knowingly. In dark places, even doctors will look like murderers. 

"Hold still, please." A tug – peeling tissue, torn flesh. 

Kagami purred. 

**END**


End file.
